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Reflecting on this tempered his arousal. But, his analysis was not wholly effective, and he noted the pleasurable feel of his slacks running across his semi-engorged stock as he eased himself off the couch. He was careful to wipe the expectant sneer off his face as he heard her footsteps down the hall.A deep breath, and she slid the pocket-door open and entered the den. Lights low, sound down on whatever college basketball game was on the TV. She registered it all even as she focused on the preternaturally still figure of her husband in front of her, his tension revealed to her by the unnatural stillness of his neutral expression. He had told her, years ago, that his training as a litigator had trained him for that; a reflexive response to uncertainty. She had seen versions of it before, but none had carried the weight of it.He knew. But she knew he knew. And he had to know that she knew he knew. And so on and so forth. Neither Doug nor Judi were stupid, dense, or even rather thick.. It was obvious to me in that very short time that this was a couple deeply in love, supportive and respectful of each other. Not the typical couple to come to a counselor with sexual problems. She started. "Okay. This is it." Then she launched into her story which I will let flow without interference as if she had told the entire story in one long narrative:It started when I was fourteen. It was summertime, a wonderful break from the drudgery of school. It was a summer of conflicts, gripping emotions, and growth, as I discovered my sexuality. I had two close friends, Rebecca and Shellie. We would sit in my room talking about things, especially boys and what we would like to do, what we thought it would be like when a boy kissed us, and other things as well. Of course, we talked of sex. We would wonder what that felt like. What would a boy's cock feel like? What would it feel like when he orgasmed? What would it feel like when a boy kissed us between the legs? So we were always a bit.
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